


The Way That Things Have Been

by Ash_Cassidy97



Series: Ash Cassidy Series [2]
Category: Alpha and Omega - Patricia Briggs, BRIGGS Patricia - Works, Mercy Thompson Series - Patricia Briggs
Genre: Fae & Fairies, Multi, Werewolf Mates, Werewolf Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2018-11-28 16:56:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11422221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ash_Cassidy97/pseuds/Ash_Cassidy97
Summary: Sequel to I Believe(that the words he told you are not your grave).Ash Cassidy's continuing struggle to get a handle on werewolf politics and Bran, but mostly the power struggle between the werewolves, Fae, humans, and well, she's never one to stop fighting.





	1. Charles Loses a Fight to a Pregnant Chick

**Author's Note:**

> I teach kids as a summer job and one of them loves the line: “Have you checked? Double checked? Triple checked? Called a friend? What’s their name?” and it goes on like that. Honestly, I needed to write something about Ash and the Cornicks. Title is from Believer.

I stared at the stick. I knew when it got fucked up. Bran took me dancing. One night of dancing leads to pregnancy one month later. Yep. That’s what I’m going with.

 

He took me dancing. I shaved my legs, and and he had a suit on. He let me step on his toes and let me sway back and forth with him for hours.

 

I stared at the stick. Nope.

 

And then he took me to see the new star trek movie. And honestly, when you start quoting star trek, clothes come off. Like that’s just science.

 

I swore again.

 

And then there was the Schatten. They tested very firmly the whole thing about me not being able to have kids. So we hadn’t used protection because I double checked, triple checked, and called a friend (Samuel). I can’t get pregnant.

 

Magical werewolf penis.

 

First time out, I crash the damn car.

 

Nothing for it.

 

I ditched the stick in the trash, pulled my pants back up and left. I’d paid in cash and skirted the security cameras without thinking about it. Charles may hate me, but even he wouldn’t let me buying a pregnancy stick on easily traceable credit cards go without a word, probably toward his father.

 

“Good luck, ma’am,” the store clerk told me before I left. I nodded politely. Jesus. I would need it.

 

The snow was already three feet deep in Two Dot, Montana. I bundled the scarf more firmly around my neck. There was a payphone outside the gas station. I called a number I memorized by heart. Partly because she was an evil woman who got even, and partly because she wouldn’t mind twitching Bran’s tail if it came to that.

  


“Hey Mercy, can I ask you a favor?”

 

I needed advice. Charles and Samuel were out. I liked them both, despite their wariness of me. I was 1/75th their father’s age. I looked more like a gold digger than a reliable step-mother. And let’s be real, George hadn’t exactly covered nurturing nature in his black-ops training.

 

“What’s up?” she asked.

 

I’d kept in contact with her and her Adam. I was Bran’s mate, sure, but I was a little bit more free to keep a line of contact between Bran and Adam. Adam had recently established the Tri-Cities as neutral territory. Bran was up to his throat in delegations between the fae and the need to keep his wolves safe. In other words, the supernatural world was watching him like the FBI watches the mexican border.

 

Me? I had the training to skeet by customs with a passport forged in the airport bathroom.

 

“I need some advice.”

 

“Hold up. Adam’s in the kitchen. I’m gonna take a drive.” We chatted about nothing much for twenty minutes while she drove far enough away from werewolf hearing. “Okay,” she said at last, stopping my rant about Asil and Sage.

 

“I’m pregnant. And you know more about it than anybody except Samuel.”

 

“And you hate doctors. Bran’s?” I didn’t take offense at the question.

 

“Yeah. And based on him arguing over me working online for a translation agency, I doubt he’ll be pleased.”

  
“Well, congratulations anyway. What are you going to do?”

 

“Lie. Steal a passport. Make my way to Mexico and sip a virgin margarita.” I wasn’t known for running away. And ignoring that, I love Bran.

 

“Send him a message in a bottle?” I laughed. “He’ll forgive you if you abort him without telling him.”

  


“It would just confirm his beliefs in me.” I thumped my head against the glass. “I’m not good with kids,” I told her. That was lie. “I dropped a baby once,” I tried. That was more truthful. I love kids. They’re just so damn hopeful. George and I had rescued hundreds of children.

 

“I know that Bran loves children, for all he hates their fragility.”

 

“I know that.” The children of Aspen Creek were the safest children in the world. But Bran was no Samuel, who had a burning desire to have children. But yes, he would protect and love any child of his. “The Pack will murder the kid before it grows six months old.” I thumped my head against the glass again.

 

“Keep me updated?” she asked, being perfectly aware that she couldn’t give me any information that I hadn’t already figured out for myself.

 

“Yeah. And Adam will keep it under his hat if he’s made aware?”

 

“Course.”  


“Thanks, Mercy.”

 

I got back in my truck. It’d been nice to chat to somebody who didn’t instantly hate me on sight. The Marrok, the Pack, didn’t like Leah. But they didn’t like me anymore. I was part Fae, magic in my bones. I could change quicker, take more damage, and I knocked a lot of wolves down in my first week of being there.

 

At least Bran wasn’t overly defensive of me. Bran had put a stop to it. Something about how I was likely to kill a wolf. Charles, however, had taken to following me around town with the subtlety of an earthquake. Luckily, I ditched the both of them to my joyride with a pregnancy stick.

 

I tuned the radio to NPR. The truck fishtailed a little across the ice.

 

“ _And while the werewolves are remaining tight lipped about their negotiations with the Fae, Congress continues to push legislation to register all werewolves and supernatural creatures alike. Here we have Congressman-”_

 

I changed the station to Y-96. I got enough politics by attending meetings with Charles, Asil, and Bran. This time of night NPR usually had jazz on. I guess the Fae were kicking things up.

 

I got home. I kissed Bran on the cheek. He was making bacon. “Meeting go well?” he asked me. I nodded. I took the bread out of the oven. “I ask Charles over.”

 

“Hmmm.” Bran, being Bran, thought that if he threw everybody in a room enough, Charles would make his peace with me. I doubted it. Charles’ and my issues stem from him wanting to protect Bran. A desire, I could not fault him for.

 

I knew Bran. I knew he’d die for Charles if the choice came to it. I knew he’d jump into a fire for me, but he would lay his life down for his wolves. And Charles didn’t trust that I’d do the same.

 

Dominance isn’t about willingness to fight. It’s about a drive to fight to protect yours, and to honor yours by protecting them. I was an Omega. Which means I didn’t follow Bran because I had to, I followed him because I loved him. And love was a far more fickle thing than dominance. Hence, most of the Marrok’s issues with me. Hence, Charles not believing enough that I was strong enough to hold as Marrok’s mate without Bran’s support.

 

Anna, of course, got none of the flack because Charles was a damn sight more scary to wolves than Bran at face value. I dare any of them to spend a few months with his wolf locked in a cell and bleeding. And for now, Bran was respecting me to keep a handle on it because if he had to step in, somebody would bleed.

 

I set the green beans on the kitchen table, and starting setting out the plates. Bran wrapped an arm around me.

 

“Thank you,” he told me, kissing me on the cheek. “Bring me back anything from the city?”

 

“Yeah. Me.” I bumped my hip into his. He spun me around the kitchen. There was jazz on the radio. I had to stand on my toes to make up some of the height difference. He kissed me on the lips for my sass. I returned it with interest.

 

Thankfully, Charles’ knock on the front door brought us back to Aspen Creek.

 

Dinner was peaceable. Charles barely said six words. We ate in steady silence. Charles helped me wash up. Bran got called out to help Sage. He left with a nod to me. Charles wasn’t going to push it, not with the threat of Bran hanging over his head. I swore softly. I caught his shoulder.

 

“Gym in five,” I told him sharply. I’d tried it Bran’s way. Civilized. Bran had put a stop to me fighting his wolves after the first week, convincing me that most of them wouldn’t take well to it. Well, I’m gonna try it my way now.

 

Bran’s garage came equipped with UFC style black matts. I changed into sweats. Charles borrowed a pair of Bran’s sweats. I changed my bra as well. We were keeping it human by unspoken agreement.

 

“If you get me out of the ring, point to you,” I told him shortly. “No magic.” I’d kick his ass if I could use magic and that’d teach nothing.

 

Well, at least Charles wasn’t a sexist pig. He right-crossed me in the face. I tripped his feet up from under him, teaching him to be wary of getting to close. He flipped me over his left shoulder and I kicked him in the dick.

 

We squared off again, more wary of each other. Charles had over 200 years on me. I had 20 years of living in a prison camp on him though. I broke his nose, left foot, and three ribs. He dislocated my knee. I got up.

 

When it was over, a brisk thirteen minutes of painful education, he was outside the ring. He got up more slowly.

 

“I am not a golddigger, Charles Cornick. I love your father. And I will die for those that are _mine_ , stupid though they may be to step into a ring with me.” I wrenched my knee back into place. “And you will let me see to your wounds so your mate doesn’t kill me.”

 

Ironically, a lot of wolves calmed the fuck down once they realized that you could beat them in a fight. Bran was mostly tired of doctoring my bruises-like I need him to.

 

Charles sat quietly while I splinted his ankle. By the time I got to his nose, his eyes had returned to their normal shade.

 

“My da won’t be able to recover if you break him or die on him.”

 

“Not planning on it, and let’s be fair, I’m kinda indestructible at this point.”

 

“I thought I was the only one who could take you in a fight,” Bran murmured, taking in the damage we’d done to his mats.

 

I remembered the whole pregnant thing. Well, abortion via Charles probably hadn’t occurred. He’d only gotten a hit on me once, and that was my shoulder.

 

“Mmmm,” Charles said. It was nasally sounding with the healing nose.

 

“I’ll drive you home,” I told Charles. He didn’t even attempt to try to argue with me. Smart wolf.

 

To give him his due, because I could afford to be fair: Charles had only met me twice before I moved in with Bran. First time, I showed up with fanfare with an injured Berserker and Arielle to Adam’s. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to people so I played the magic-drunk Fairy from hell to the best of my ability. The second time, I asked him to kill me and make it clean. Neither meetings told Charles I was anything more than a flighty Fae.

 

I didn’t help him inside the truck. I drove for a few minutes before I started the conversation.

 

“The first time I sat down with Samuel, he managed to imply that I was a jailbait whore who was using my issues with men to lead Bran on in order to gain power.”

 

Yeah. Cornicks are talented with the word.

 

“My point,” I continued. “Is that I don’t know why Bran chose me anymore than you do. But I like him too much to give him up because his sons don’t like me.”

 

“I’m sorry,” he said at last. “You just kinda look like a twig.” It was funny watching him stumble over words. “And I should know better.”

 

I helped him out of the truck. He swung an arm around my shoulders, and let me take most of his weight. I hauled him into his house. Anna held the door open.

 

“Get it sorted?” she asked grumpily, taking in his injuries.

 

“He’ll be fine by morning. I didn’t hit him hard.” I met her eyes. “I apologize for hurting your mate.”

 

She shrugged it off. “He kept pushing at you. Do you want some tea?”

 

I shook my head. “Thank you, but I should get back. I’m sorry,” I told Charles. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”

 

I drove the truck back much slower than I drove Charles home. Bran was finishing the wash-up. He had soap bubbles in his hair. I wouldn’t put it past him that it was deliberate. He washed his hands off and dried them. I sat down heavily as he started a pot of tea.

 

“Now, what’s wrong?” he asked serving me a cup of tea.

 

“Hmmm?” she asked, taking a sip of tea. English with sugar. She shook her head. I turned back to the washing.“How’s Sage? You’re back sooner than I expected.”

* * *

 

I knew my mate. I’d known her three months, and I knew that it would take a lot to get her to the point where fighting Charles seemed like an agreeable choice. I kept my back to her, letting her have the advantage. We were running out of dishes to wash. I’d run through the everyday set twice today. I was going to have to start dusting at this point to keep my hands busy.

 

Beast snorted at me. He didn’t believe in being this sly.

 

“She might be over later. I convinced to her to call Asil.” Ash sipped more tea. “He had a handle on it, so I came back early. So what did you do at the mall?”

 

“Nothing much. Went to goodwill.” That was true enough. She ran a hand down my back. “You have soap in your hair.”

 

“And what in goodwill would lead you to start a fight with Charles?”

 

She pressed her body against mine. I swayed into the sink. “I got sick of him treating me like I was some floozy you brought back from Vegas. I’m not. And it makes my life easier if he gets that I’m not here because you have money.” I swayed back lightly. “And he’s overly protective of me. Keeps following me if I go into the city, two trackers in my car. One of them yours. Even Anna didn’t tell me off, which means I’m in the right and he knew it.”

 

“Think he let you win?” I teased her. She laughed against my neck. I turned. Oh yeah, she was evading out the ass.

 

“No.”  She took two steps back. “Charles would never let me win.” I rested my hips against the sink and carefully dried my hands. She was frightened of something. I swore internally.

 

“I’m going to shower,” I told her, looking past her jaw. I didn’t invite her. Ash would show up if and when she pleased. Invitations sound more like threats to her.

 

I showered alone. She was passed out in our bed when I came out. Our mate bond was shut down. Something happened between when she left the house at 6am and 5pm when she got back. And knowing her, and George, she knew about the other three trackers in the truck the Charles had insisted on.

 

I tucked myself in. Asil would happily let himself into my home if need be. Sage had been overly distressed before I left. I growled softly. Ash rolled over in her sleep. I fell into an uneasy doze.

 

I woke to Ash screaming her head off. She rolled off the bed and landed into a crouch, back against the wall. I lay in bed, face down. There was a black scorch mark on the wall next to the door from the last time I’d tried to comfort her.

 

“Fuck,” she muttered, after two minutes of quiet. I tossed her a flannel shirt of mine. She pulled it on her t-shirt and pj pants. The scent calmed her down a little. The bond was through wide open. I nearly fell of the damned bed.

 

Terror.

 

And something. Something-

 

“Bran?” Asil called from downstairs, his voice soft.

 

“Fine,” I told him, barely above a whisper. Ash was already standing up. She left for the bathroom.

 

“I’m going to take Sage back to my place,” he told me. Sage was here with Asil because she felt unsafe. Sage must’ve calmed down enough that she could trust Asil to protect her without the need to know I would intervene if Asil took it too far. I heard them leave.

 

Ash came out from the bathroom. She still looked like I was going to hit her from a crime I didn’t know she committed.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“No,” she told me plainly. “And I can’t tell you why right now. I’m sorry.”

 

“Is it something I’ve done?”

 

“No. This one’s on me. It has nothing to do with George or . . . anybody else but me.”

  
I knew her. Ash didn’t have nightmares about herself. That’s not her. She had nightmares about what could happened or did happen to those she loved. Too stupid to be worried about herself. Between the two of us, we usually had everybody covered.

 

“Love,” I told her as gently as I could, “your worries are mine.”

 

Of course, I would spend the next three days hacking around on the Internet. I knew her. Ash wasn’t the type to get upset over nothing. And she sure as _cachu_ wasn’t used to turning toward me for help.

 

“Babe, what are you doing?” she asked, trying to peer over my computer screen. According to Charles’ spiders, she spent a passionate night in Rio. Great. Good to know that if my mate ever gets kidnapped, she’s more likely to kill the poor bastard than allow me to do it.

 

“Shopping for Christmas gifts for Charles and Samuel.” I pulled up the-I blame Ash for this- Etsy page of quilts.

 

“Mmmm. How are things between Samuel and Arianna?” she asked.

 

“I suspect you know more than me.”

 

She, Arianna, Anna, and Mercy had started a support group for those that are dating stupid men. Her words. Something about how dominant and controlling Cornick men are. Adam got thrown in because Mercy was a Cornick.

 

“They’re setting up house.” She gave me a wicked smile.

 

We’d gone downstairs and watched Firefly because she was still in a bad way and I was a sucker. She’d been trying to get me to watch it for the last two weeks. And so for some known ridiculous reason, I was trying to hack the security videos in Two Dot, Montana because a payphone had called Mercy.

 

“They’re trying to get pregnant.” I was glad I was sitting down. Samuel hadn’t said a word to me.

 

“What?” I asked, confused at being surprised.

 

“Yeah. But baby gifts are too hopeful.” I took in her scent. Nervous. Fear. Ash.

 

Beast was pleased that she smelled like me. Pine. Snow. Wood-burning. It still smelled off, like a mirror image of how she should smell. Now, why would she be hiding what she smelled like?

 

“Hmmm,” I agreed without really thinking about it, trying to focus on dropping the mystery of my mate. My phone went off. “Mercy’s missing,” Adam growled through the line.

 

“What?” I asked softly. A lot of wolves believed that softness meant I wasn’t a threat. Adam wasn’t one of them. Ash ran up stairs and packed me a bag while I got the details down.

 

“You catching a plane tonight?” she asked.

 

“Yeah. I got confirmation from the goblins.” She handed me the well-used leather bag.

 

“I’m driving you to the airport,” Ash ordered.

 

“Yes, dear.” I checked my passport. “Matt Smith?”

 

“What?” She started up the truck. “He’s not your favorite doctor?” Ash was better at forging passports than Charles. She has made evading the government a little easier. “I packed a blue scarf.”

 

“I don’t have the shoes for it.” I propped my leather shoes up on the dash. Ash laughed softly.

 

She drove me to the private field at Aspen. She dropped me off, putting the truck into first. She stared at the snow. “You bring her back,” she growled at me. “And you hold Adam if he loses it.”

 

“Love you,” I told her.

 

“I know.” I kissed her, trying to memorize her scent.

 

“Be safe,” she told me strictly.

 

“Try to.” I left, kicking the door shut. She didn’t wait until the plane took off before driving off.


	2. Bran Approves of Feminism

Yeah, so Bran gets a little sarcastic, but come on, there’s a troll under his facade. Goddamn moose pancakes. Fight me.

Here, for your viewing pleasure is a list of all the things I’d accomplished while Bran was gone:

  1. Washing
  2. Worried
  3. Washed the car
  4. Worried
  5. Scrubbed the porch
  6. Worried
  7. Hacked the Brazilian government
  8. Egged Asil’s car because of a remark he made
  9. Took another pregnancy test
  10. Hacked the Prague government



Good news: Asil painted his truck something other than white. The Brazilians and Pragues don’t know I hacked them.

Bad news: still pregnant. Bran was arriving back in three days. Of course, it was just like Charles to throw a wrench in that.

 

I went to church every sunday. Oddly enough, witches, Fae, and werewolves can all step foot on holy ground. I don’t believe, but Bran does and he’s largely respectful of my needs so I wear a cross around my neck and go to church. Charles pulled me a little way from the church after service let out.

 

“What?” I asked him.

 

“I know.” I rolled my eyes at him. “You’re pregnant. With the Marrok’s child.” Fuck me. Well, that’s where it went wrong but yeah. He spoke barely at a whisper, no werewolves could hear him.

 

“Yeah. Haven’t told him yet.” I crossed my arms, fighting the urge to hunch away from his glare. I raised my chin. Not on a technicality was I higher in the Pack structure than him.

 

“Are you going to?”

 

“Charles, it’s not really your affair.” It was. Charles had 200 years on me, and all that time he’d been one of the most dominant wolves. As one of Bran’s, he protected his Alpha and all those around him.

 

“It is if you take off and it destroys him.”

 

I leaned against my truck. There were three passports in the glovebox. There was a go bag in the metal box on the back. I can speak 6 languages fluently, working on that Welsh. And my feet were grounded here. I couldn’t leave Bran if I wanted, if I dared.

 

“I  _ love _ him, Charles. I love his bad temper, the way he can make pancakes but can’t make waffles to save his life, and the way he tries to understand Star Trek for me. For you, I would die for. For him?” I snorted softly. “I would burn the world to the ground and not think twice. And people like us? We don’t deserve precious things because we will burn cities down for them.”

 

Charles nodded. Maybe finally, something clicked inside his head.

 

Samuel and Adam and Mercy saw us after the Schatten. They saw my ability to calm Bran down. Charles only saw my ability to lead Bran around by the ear. And Charles hadn’t been privy to George’s wolves. He’d only seen me small and frightened and magic drunk until the night I beat his ass into the mats, something that hadn’t occurred for at least 100 years.

 

Usually, I was even better than Bran at appearing a scared little rabbit.

 

“So are you going to tell him?”

 

“When he gets back. The second he gets back.” Something finally settled between the two of us. It’s ironic in a way. Charles was the more overprotective of the two brothers. “I-I’ve been stress-baking. Do you and Anna want some food? I was also going to invite Asil and Sage?” He nodded. “7?” Another nod. Geez. Charle’s the conversationalist of the Marrok.

 

Christmas was three weeks away. At least the awfulness of Thanksgiving had finally started to fade. I made chilli and popcorn. I’d lived in Aspen a month. Bran went a’courting three months before that. I didn’t exactly hop in bed with the Marrok with the intention of having a kid.

 

“When’s Bran’s plane getting back?” Asil asked.

 

The Pack had been told that Bran had gone meeting with lone wolves, with George. George would back the story if anybody started asking but nobody would.

 

“2am this morning.” He was catching a plane from Prague to Atlanta. Atlanta to Tri-Cities. Three days later he would fly himself back to Aspen. This wasn’t even the hoops Hauptman and the others were going through to avoid the feds or other supernatural creatures. “He should text me from the plane to let me know they’re all safe.”

 

“Good,” Charles said, taking the pot out of my arms.

 

We were eventually joined by three other wolves. Bran’s house is more like a frathouse at times with how many dominant wolves we had at any given time. Everybody ate and eventually slept. Bran texted me promptly at 2:30.

 

“ _ I just got off the plane. Talks went well. _ ”

 

“ _ Okay. _ ”

 

“Mercy called me,” Charles told me, walking into the kitchen, watching me lean over the sink. I tried not to throw up with relief and well. “Da’s been faking a submissive wolf.”

 

“Been lending him some magic. He told me about it before he left. Even Adam wouldn’t be able to recognize him until he allowed it.”

 

“And you kept me out of it.” Charles hadn’t been in contact with Bran, because Bran asked him not to and not to mention it to Mercy or Adam that he was coming.

 

“Sorry, but we figured the less people knew about Bran, the better.”

 

“And you were worried that I might challenge you.” I nodded tightly, still bent over the sink. “I wouldn’t.”

 

“I know that. If it got out, not on you, but if it did and somebody challenged me . . . I couldn’t risk it.”

 

“Hmmm. It’s fine.”

 

I wanted to ask him things, things that I couldn’t voice. Am I doing the right thing? Am I doing the right thing in uprooting my life and moving it to Aspen Creek and fighting tooth and nail to belong in a place where few want or like me? For love?

 

But those aren’t the things you should ask Charles.

 

I snorted at myself. One year ago and I would’ve laughed at the thought of meeting the Marrok, let alone wolf-marrying him.

 

I went back into the den after brushing my teeth and scrubbing the sink. The odd wolves out had curled up on the monster sleeper couch. I curled up in the overstuffed armchair with a pile of knitting. Bran’s absences had driven me to the battle of knitting sweaters. It was a canary yellow monstrosity that was destined to some poor schmuck who couldn’t refuse. Probably Sage. Poor gal.

 

Bran spent three months courting me. Two months of politely dropping me off at the airport so I could catch my flight back. One month of letting me lock the hotel door in front of his face. He took me on dates to the movies, didn’t buy me anything over 50 bucks after a careful conversation about how money freaks me out, left room for Jesus at dances.

 

Then November came around.

 

I drove the next day to the airport, letting the truck fishtail over the icy roads. Bran had flown himself back. He’d looked exhausted. Too much stress from trying to be a tiny art student. Matt Smith. Jesus. He tossed his bag in the back.

 

“Hey babe, good holiday?” He kissed me on the lips, breathing my scent in. I sighed, gripping his head with tense fingers.  _ Mine _ . I scooched over so he could drive.

*************************************************************************************************

I looked at my mate. She looked more worn out than I felt. She’d pulled her hair back and wore one of my flannels.

 

“Samuel told me Arianna is pregnant.” Ash snorted softly. “Yes, he was panicking his ass off.”

 

“Told you,” she said smugly.

 

“Yes, dear.” I dropped the magic she’d given me. She held my hand. Her hand was rough, scored by the cold Montana winter. The wolf settled down a little. I breathed easier around her.

 

“Any other news?”

 

“Adam is one scary bastard.”

 

“Hmm. Any new news?”

 

“No, still waiting to hear why Charles of all people texted me to say I need to talk to you.”

 

“Hmmm.” Ash looked more like she was going to a sewing circle but I knew her.

 

Trying to head her off at the pass I said, “Not his fault.”

 

“Debatable.” She slipped my hand around her shoulders and leaned into me. She wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. “I’ll tell you over dinner as I planned to.”

 

“Hmmm. Pasta?” I asked her.

 

“Course. With real cheese, none of that fake stuff.” I groaned appreciatively. “I set it all out, should only take fifteen minutes to prepare.”

 

“You didn’t put anything out that would spoil if we’re a little late to dinner?” I asked suggestively, leaning into her.

 

“Course not. I figured you might’ve had a bite on the plane.”

 

“Know something I’d rather bite.” Not my best line, but I knew Ash. She threw back her head and laughed, snuggling closer.

 

“I’d prefer it if you flirt later,” Charles grumbled. He’d been sitting to the right of Ash because he needed to see if his own eyes that I’d made it back safe.

 

Of course, the witches didn’t say anything when they T-boned the truck either.

 

**********************************************************

 

Pain.

 

Glass.

 

I rolled onto my side and pushed my body into motion to get to my feet. Charles was growling in the truck. He’d worn his seatbelt.

 

Panic.

 

I couldn’t hear Bran. Couldn’t feel him.

 

I clutched my right arm. Damn glass window was no match for me hurtling through it at thirty miles an hour. Charles was mid-change and wouldn’t be able to help until he was finished. The left door of the truck had been blasted off with magic.

 

Bran was gone.

 

Charles was fighting his way out of the seat belt. The seat belt had nothing on a 300 pound werewolf with Charles’ rage. His rage had nothing on my pure wave of panic. He had glass in his face that was going to need to be cleaned out. I sniffed, trying to scent if Bran had just wandered off, like there wasn’t a stench of witchcraft around us.

 

I checked the cracked watch on my wrist. Forty minutes had passed since I’d last checked it, five minutes before Bran got in the truck. The witches had thirty minutes on us. Triage: Regroup. Plan. Attack.

 

At least they left the cellphone in the floor of the truck. Crushed it. But hey, it was there. I sighed as I popped my shoulder back into place. Maybe the cell phone company will believe me about this one.

 

“Honestly officer, a scary witch crushed it with her black leather boots while singing about killing Dorathy.”

 

We were still two miles outside of the town. I routed through Bran’s bag, keeping an eye on the surrounding woods. I wasn’t about to charged off into the woods and leave Charles by himself. I wrapped one of Bran’s shirts around my arm and tied another one around my leg. Charles snarled.

 

“The bad guys are gone from what I can tell,” I told him, “Nobody here for you to attack.” 

 

He jumped down from the truck and watched at I flipped the hood up. He kept his back to me, meeting the woods head-on. Smoke rose from the hood. I whistled through my teeth. They’d cut several things. Bran’s truck needed a date with a tow truck and a good mechanic before it was moving anywhere.

 

“Swell,” I murmured. “I don’t suppose you have a cellphone on you?” Charles stared at me. “Right.” 

 

His feet were riddled with glass. The witches had left the medical kit. I pulled the glass out of his feet, and got what I could out of me. Going back into town sans Bran and covered in fresh blood was not the best idea. Luckily our wounds had two miles in which to heal and for the blood to dry.

 

Swell.

 

It took twenty minutes but we made it back into town, jogging at a light pace. Charles was patient and waited for my human legs to catch up with him. I could change with glass in my body, but possibly pregnant tipped the scale to let’s not today. Bran still didn’t know, but that was low on my list of the shit storm today.

 

I led the way to the clinic. Charles trailed me. Door was unlocked. The position of town doctor had been vacant until I showed up, but I was mostly on-call for car crashes, not vaccines and bandaids. I went to use the wall phone to call Asil. Anna was waiting for us next to the counter.

 

“Charles?” Anna asked. Charles, Brother Wolf, shook his head. “I called Asil. Charles couldn’t get a clear connection until you walked past the gas station. I ran here.”

 

“Awesome. You’re going to get a crash course in pulling glass out,” I told her. “Brother Wolf, mind hopping up on the table?” He snarled but did as I asked. I raised an eyebrow. “Growl away. Whinging is acceptable, biting my arm off is not.”

 

I felt Anna pour a little Omega into the air. I rolled a stool over so my leg could rest. Asil came in through the back door. I kept my eyes on pulling glass out of Charles’ paws and shoulder. I’d missed some before. I didn’t want to look up because Asil smelled like brimstone and it would not end well. “Can I use your cellphone?” I asked him instead.

 

First thing’s first. George. Hauptman. The Pack. And then everything else.

 

I didn’t know if this was hit on me or Bran, but I was expecting the later. My mate had a tendency to piss off more people than I ever did. I was betting the witches were pissy about the Fae, vampires, and humans working with the Marrok.

 

I called George. They were safe, all of them. Adam was good as well. I finished patching Charles up, and pulled off my gloves. “Well, that narrows it down some.” I washed off the tweezers with alcohol. “Asil, how much do you know about-?”

 

“I know enough to pull glass out,” Asil answered.

 

“Awesome. Minor knee surgery might be needed as well.”

 

*********************************************************************

 

I woke tied up in a chair with silver chains. Naked. Wonderful. Dick burn. Do not recommend.

 

“Bran Cornick, you will help us channel the energy of the Wolf,” a witch told me.

 

Ash was going to kill me. And the witch. Probably the witch first. I lessened ties with the Pack, giving wolves to Ash as much as I could. She wouldn’t get a hold on mine through magic, not now. I was more prepared than I’d been with Asil’s witch at least.

 

I tested the chains.

 

Two words: dick burn.

 

“Burn, witch,” I told her.

 

I didn’t say anything more after that. They started with knives, carving up my skin with dull iron blades, flaking salt into the wounds. I thought back to last november, letting my mind wander away from this place. My wolf would wake me if anything interesting happened.

 

I was mid-argument with Buch, one of the relations of a new wolf. He was angry his son was dead and only my wolf kept me from tearing his throat out. I felt them die. All of them.

 

Ash stormed in softly. She had a leather bag flung over her shoulder and I focused on its smell, trying not to breath her in. She was still terrified of me, still waiting for me to abuse her. I was patient after over 900 years on this earth. I could do this. I could hold myself under control until . . .well, until I didn’t have to any more.

 

I’d been dropping her off at her hotel in the city, letting her deadbolt the door, not even trying to kiss her off her feet. I’d walk back to the car every night and go for a 20 mile run in the woods. It was taking more control than I knew I had, letting her go.

 

And she showed up with a packed leather bag that smelled like gun fire, which was not something I’d ever thought I’d be attracted to. I wanted to groan. My woman could take Charles in a fight.

 

I don’t remember the last person who protected me.

 

She showed up and calmly pushed Buch out of the house. “Bed, mister.”

 

“Ash, I’m not-”

 

“You need to sleep. I need to stress-bake, and I’m staying here for the next month. So go wash up.” She patted my chin. “Shave.”

 

“I can’t-”

 

“Bran.” She waited until my eyes met hers. “Go shower.”

 

Ash crawled into my bed and I tried to keep a foot away from her. She thrust her head into my chest and wrapped my arm around her.

 

“Why?” I asked her, laying there in the dark, weighed down by her.

 

“Because I’m sick of watching you hurt yourself by letting me go at the end of every date. I’m tired of leaving, Bran.”

 

And she stayed. She let Charles be a punk. She went to church for no damn reason but she thought I cared. She leaned on me and worried about me. She let me know immediately when I was wrong, when I hurt her.

 

“I’m going to tell the Pack to leave you alone,” I told her, tugging her foot in my lap. She whined at me, not wanting to let me to see what Charles had done to her more than I’d hurt her.

 

“No.” I pulled the pant leg up regardless. “I will not take them bitching about me in private.”

 

“Charles cannot be allowed to -”

 

“What? Voice his opinion?” His opinion was going to be quickly corrected. Her leg was torn. I could smell the blood through the fabric. I ripped it down the seam.

 

“That’s not what this was,” I told her. I carefully put her leg on the couch. I fetched the first aid kit. “This was him thinking you couldn’t protect him.”

 

Ash snorted. “That was him being a dick. He thinks I’m not good enough and his wolf thinks I can’t protect him. Two separate instincts. I handled the wolf, and the man will take a while to fix.”

 

“I thought I would warn you in advance that I’m going to-”

 

“Babe, I generally like you and I’ll say this one time, I take care of my shit.”

 

“Fine,” I told her with no little irritation.

 

She raised her eyebrows at me. “This thing, this thing where I like you and have sex with you is not going to go far if you try to fight my battles for me.”

 

“Fine,” I snarled.

 

“I will not become another Leah. I am not  _ her _ , Bran Cornick. I am not a damsel in distress. I fought for respect for as long as I can remember. I will not have my mate disrespect me by telling his pack I am unable to protect myself or them.”

 

She wasn’t Leah. I knew her, knew her to the bones and back. There wasn’t a selfish nerve in her body, let alone a whole bone. The Schatten, her last pack, had broken her. She was more protective of her people than I was at times, and she was more capable of keeping them safe than most who walked this earth.

 

“That much is clear,” I said ironically as I stitched up her knee. She didn’t whine or flinch away. I sighed. “I will not degree that the wolves show you respect.”

 

“Good.” She relaxed on the couch. “I’d rather deal with the minions straight out rather than have them bitch when I can’t face them.”

 

She went the next morning and calmly dealt with Charles. She cleaned his wounds again, cooked him food, and let Anna rage at her. She knew what I was and she still stayed. I was hers. She came back the next night and slept again in my bed, like she had for the past month.

 

And this witch was definitely going to die.

 

Ash would see to it. And she would see to that my pack was safe.

 

I closed my eyes and let the spells wash over me.

 

tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so as always, don’t expect regular updates. I’m working on this and one other. Same fandom-not posted yet. Reviews mean I write more, especially if you guilt-trip me. Seriously. Be evil. Be grateful that it didn’t end with the T-bone.


	3. The Terror of Middle Schoolers

I wish I could say that I sprung into action, that I found Bran immediately after one night. I’d like that. All neat with a bow. Instead I had to deal with Samuel, Asil, and Charles living in what once was a large house. Ariana was staying with Samuel, and Jesus, I’d take on all the witches myself.

 

“Can you pass the sugar?” Well, maybe flipping the table was an adapt reaction to Asil’s question. I barely lived in a normal world before shipping my ass off to werewolf central.

 

“Charles,” I murmured. They all fell silent. “Out of the house. Walk.” He left, shutting the door gently behind him. I sat back down. Samuel righted the table. I sat next to Arielle. She was shaking slightly. The wolves left were terrified.

 

Asil cleaned up the spilled chicken. Matt laid out some more. His hands were barely steady at the best of times. I made a mental note to talk to him later. I dug in, heedless to the tension at the table. Samuel helped me with the dishes after shuffling Ariana upstairs to calm down more.

 

“Did you hear anything from George?”

 

I shook my head. Samuel was here from Tri-Cities because Charles was a step away from losing it. Samuel should’ve been more worried about me. Bran bound his wolves to me, through the mate bound, making me the alpha of over 200 packs in the United States.

 

I was slightly better than Ariana would’ve been.

 

Most of it I owe to Bran.

 

All of it I owe to George.

 

I know how to deal with violent wolves.

 

Bran couldn’t have picked a better mate from a point. I was perfect for him, letting him keep control. I could keep the others in line. Once, he told me I made him want to lose control, to let it rip. I was probably very good for him. I was the only other wolf besides Anna who didn’t need to listen to his orders, and the only one he wouldn’t immediately enforce if push came to shove. Oh yeah, Bran needed a little me in his life.

 

I thought back to November.

 

Asil called me. There’s a twist.

 

Bran got in a bad way, growling at his Pack, at his family. And they had to let him because he was the big bad Alpha. Anna didn’t put up with it, but Bran did his best to shut them all out. And he had 900 years to practice at being an asshole.

 

I drove there. George tried calling my phone twice. But this-this was my fault. Asil wasn’t trying to manipulate me into a good relationship or lie for Bran. So I packed up a leather bag and ditched George’s spies sixty miles from Aspen Creek. I didn’t think I would stay.

 

I thought Bran was staging some manipulative scheme or something. I figured I’d kick his ass between his ears and that would be settled.

 

I walked into the house. I watched as some human screamed at Bran, and he tried so hard to hold himself back, to shoulder the blame. I didn’t see a man painting himself a martyr. I saw a man, or something as close to it as you could get, trying so damn hard to hold himself together so he could piece everybody else, even this dumb human.

 

I know that. I know drowning so everybody else could swim back to shore.

 

I didn’t think anybody else was as self-sacrificing as me. I know. Stupid, right?

 

I calmly redirected the human out. I got Bran to shave and shower. I channelled my new self-awareness into making dinner. Pasta with thick meat sauce. He wouldn’t meet my eyes over the dinner table. I didn’t try to push him to talk, me showing up out of nowhere would’ve shocked his core. I crawled into bed with the man.

 

He held himself at a rigid foot away from me, trying so damn hard to keep me safe, to give me what I’d asked for. I lay there for a second. Whatever Bran was, he wasn’t my enemy and he sure as shit wasn’t my savior. And that was more than enough for me.

 

I wrapped his arm around me, pressing my face into his chest.

 

“Stop worrying so much about me, Bran. Just go to sleep.”

 

I leaned against the kitchen cabinet. “Hey Samuel.” The doctor stopped at the door, looking like he was going out. “Can I ask you a favor?”

 

We weren’t saviors: Bran and I. He wasn’t Romeo or some badly written vampire romance. We protected what was ours.

 

“What’s up?” Samuel asked. He knew of all the wolves, I was probably most frightened of him. I probably gave him very good practice for his mate or vice versa.

 

I bit my lip. “I could use a medical favor. You know, well feminine problems-”

 

Hopefully whoever was listening just thought that I was embarrassed. Well, it’s not false.

 

“Oh.  _ Ohhh. _ Of course,” Samuel said at last.

 

Jesus. Son in law. Vagina. No.

 

Maybe I should just trust those unreliable take home kits. Because you know those were designed for werewolves.

 

“So? I know that you’re not that embarrassed about yourself,” Samuel said as I hopping up on his table.

 

“So. You know the thing where I was all ‘no doc, I can’t get pregnant’ and you were all ‘oh, that makes sense?’” He nodded. “Yeah. I was wrong.”

 

That face drop.

 

Maybe I can create a photo album of every time I’ve surprised a werewolf? You know like a PR thing? I was still trying to convince Charles that if I filmed him as a wolf with bunny rabbits, humans would love it.

 

“You’re pregnant?”

 

“Yep.” Well, I wasn’t really surprised. If Charles hadn’t done the kid in, witches wouldn’t either.

 

“Right.” Samuel rubbed the back of his head, and tried to kick it into doctor mode.

 

“I just need to know if this is a magical werewolf thing or a Ash isn’t as broken as thought or what?”

 

“Of course.” He then went on to ask me a series of questions from how many times I’ve done the beast with two backs to what kind of underwear  _ Bran  _ prefers. He also took enough blood to open a bank. 

 

“I want to start testing as invasively as possible,” he told me. “But,” he continued as I pulled my clothes back on, “I doubt it’s a once in a life-time occurrence.”

 

“Swell.” I sighed and rubbed at my eyes. “Haven’t told Bran yet.”

 

He started scrubbing the table. “I take it that’s why Charles has been growling more than usual?”

 

“I thought that was just him.”

 

Samuel laughed easily, leaning against the exam table. “Think this will get any less weird?”

 

“What? The whole Fae chick banging your dad thing? Meh.” I grinned suddenly. “I got him to watch Star Trek.”

 

“Yeah, okay. You can stay,” he joked.

 

He put the samples in so we could check them another time. He drove me back. I was exhausted. My arms were bandaged under Bran’s flannel, and it felt more like the heavy fabric was busy holding me together. Charles was still running out in the woods, if his senses were any indication. Thanks to Bran, I could get a general sense of where my wolves were. Helpfully, the witches were blocking Bran off.

 

Asil caught me as I scrubbed the kitchen down. “Can I ask you for advice?” Of course Asil had decided to start his courtship in the middle of all of this. To be fair, Sage had taken to low cut, skimpy sweaters and killer high heels like a woman loading a Russian tank, not that I’ve ever done such a thing. To be even more fair, Asil needed somebody with the subtlety of a howitzer tank if the past three outfits were any indication.

 

“Sure,” I told him. Bran, I owe Bran something. Possibly a frying pan to the face if I had to give advice about Asil’s romance with Sage.

 

“How do I-?” Asil began. “I-I don’t want to-”

 

“Asil,” I told him with all the patience I had. “If you want advice about how to court a woman, I would ask the woman in question rather than a woman who’d been locked up for the past twenty years and whose recent dates had consisted of going to Star Trek and UFC matches.”

 

He sighed, and near about fell against the wall. “I don’t want to scare her.”

 

“Figure it out by next Friday or I swear I will drag you to the  _ A Taming of the Shrew _ that’s being put on by the school.” Shakespeare by Middle Schoolers wasn’t something the old wolf would appreciate, and I would do it.

 

Bran had taken me to a showing of the  _ Shrew  _ for our eighth date. And yeah, it had ended in sex. So, yes Asil better give a damn move on before I drag him and the rest of my honor guard to watch adorable middle schoolers torture Shakespeare while scenting my raising hormone levels.

 

Eight fights between the Marrok and I.

 

Asil now had a wary respect for me, which tickled me to the core  _ and _ had allowed me to enforce the watching of  _ Tangled _ last night. Bran, knowing a self-sacrificing moron as only one knows another, would expect me to take care of his people before I even thought of getting him.

 

Asil, thank the gods above, left me alone to scrubbing the kitchen after a hasty nod. Matt came into the kitchen, still half twitching. “Sorry,” he muttered as he jostled the chair hard against the floor.

 

“Sit down,” I told him. “Put your feet up. I’ll put the kettle on.”

 

Charles and Samuel had become my honor guard, trying to stare down any wolf before they foolishly challenged me for the right of Marrok. As soon as I got my mate back, I’d slap him for putting me in charged over 200 packs in the United States, especially his personal Pack of special snowflakes, pitting me against any dominant wolf the world over.

 

Matt was a very special snowflake. I asked Bran before he left about it. All he said was that Matt had a rough change. Right. Like I had a rough change, knowing my mate. Rough changes apparently meant that Matt took to following Charles around with all the ferocity of a puppy, and Charles letting it.

 

“Thanks,” he murmured. I didn’t try to start the conversation. I grabbed a blanket off the opposite chair and tucked it around Matt’s shoulders. “Sorry,” he muttered.

 

Submissive wolf. I shook my head at him. “Don’t apologize. Helps me to fiddle around right now.” The only reason Charles was letting him hang around was that Matt looked like a wet puppy. Lord knows what Bran said to convince Matt to Aspen Creek where the crazies are.

 

“You all have been far too kind,” he told me. I laughed weakly, watching the snow fall outside.

 

“We haven’t done anything of the sort,” I told him. I sat across from him and propped my feet up. “What seems to be the trouble?”

 

Matt shook his head, wrapping his handing around the teacup I handed him. Best I could tell, Bran found him in a hole. I still have no idea what he said to Matt to talk him out, but I knew Matt followed him around like a newborn puppy. And I knew that he followed Charles around the same when Bran left, anytime Bran left really.

 

“Nothing,” he told me. I raised an eyebrow, something I stole off Bran from watching him interrogate his people. “I’ll tell you anything if it becomes something.”

 

I let it go. Charles more than likely had it well in hand.

 

“Make sure to turn the light out before you go up,” I told him. I patted his shoulder and went to get ready for bed. 

 

Charles was already passed out in my bed. Asil was showering in the bathroom. There’d been a thing where a few wolves thought they were ninjas and crashed through my windows. My battle of keeping various wolves out of my bedroom was lost after that. I brushed my teeth, slipped into the bathroom after Asil. I jumped on the bed, landing squarely on Charles, and tucked myself in between him and  Asil. Anna and Ariana were sleeping down the hall. Samuel would wander back and forth between beds all night, and sleep some next day.

 

I let Charles snarl weakly. Asil plopped down on top of me. Matt would end up in the women’s room, being not a threat to the mates. I sighed at all of them in aggravation and thanks.

 

For now, I counted my blessings as the various wolves in my den fell asleep. Anna was safe down the hall with Sam and Ariana.

  1. Nobody was dead in the Pack.
  2. Still pregnant.
  3. Asil will get his shit together or face Shakespeare by middle schoolers.
  4. Ariana is not terrified of me.
  5. Everyday I don’t find Bran is another day that he has to save himself before I accidently start a war with the North American witches.



General list of annoyances:

  1. Lack of Bran.
  2. I want to start a war with the North American witches and can’t. Yet.



 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I learned more about fertility than I’ve ever wanted to learn. Ever. Trying to write with CinemaSins in the background makes me paranoid.


	4. Fall In Love Through Snowball Fights

Being several weeks, I would expect any good witch to develop more methods of inducing pain. The usual silver pins in feet trick does get boring after a while. Clearly Ash wore off on me. She would set these bitches straight about proper witchcraft. Lord knew she set me straight on a number of things over the year that I’d known her.

 

“Really, that’s how they tie up a rampant wolf these days?” She bothered to ask me during the Schatten experience. “Back in my day, you damn well use something that’ll require fire to break.”

 

“Really, really? That’s how the Marrok calms the wolves down? By growling at ‘em? Honestly, out with ye’.” That one had been from last November involving a stressed-wolf: me.

 

I grinned weakly at the grimy hole they shoved me in. I could just see her cracking about, turning a nose up at my wounds not done up proper. I easily re-broke my fingers so they’d heal correctly.

 

At the very least, Ash wouldn’t come after me because of some misplaced sense of duty. And she wouldn’t surrender herself without a fight, not with her new position as Marrok.

 

Might want to hurry up, I thought at her. They keep bleeding me like this and I’ll be dead in two weeks into the New Year.

 

Gave my week an easy three weeks to find me.

* * *

I did not find Bran before Christmas Day. Because this, as much as I keep reminding you, this is not a Harlequin Romance, despite the pregnant woman and a house full of werewolves. December, Anna told me a while ago, is usually a sad affair at Aspen. This year, the town looked like an ad for a Christmas movie or anything to brighten the haze of gloom that draped the town.

 

“I’ve had cheerier Christmases spent working in the morgue,” Sam told me as he helped carry the turkey in. 50 pounder. It was the third one to go on the table tonight. Sam’s “help” consisted of guarding the turkey from the ravenous beasts sitting around my table: Asil, Anna, Sage, Charles, Samuel, Ariana, Matt, and (as a Christmas surprise) George. Roe had stayed home to mind the pack in his absence and while I couldn’t envy her, at least she wasn’t getting glared at by the Marrok wolves every time she walked outside.

 

“Worst Christmas was this hovel in Ireland. James, my CO, managed to score us some canned peas. He needn’t have bothered. I started a small firefight with the enemy to get out of having to crack one of the canes open,” George said to break the tension.

 

“Which war was that?” Matt asked, even as the others eagerly listened. I patted George’s shoulder in thanks as I stood up again to get the pudding. George was good at cheering people up.

 

I gave everybody gifts from Bran and I, more from me on the card though so nobody would accuse him of ignoring them. Samuel, Charles, and Mercy got quilts that were charmed to smell of whatever they found relaxing. Handy bit of magic also made them practically indestructible. Their mates, including Adam all ended up with charmed sweaters that would halt must magic and weapons. The sweaters were all hand knit by me, and the quilts were all designed by Bran. Sage and Asil got nice paintings from Bran with roses.

 

I ended up with odds and ends from from them all. Anna had knit me a blanket. Charles got me a new laptop. George came through in the end and gave me the means to save my mate.

 

He kissed my cheek as he left later that evening. He’d been stepping out to take calls all night; I hadn’t thought anything of it. His Pack made the Marrok look sane.

 

He slipped me a postit note. “It’s not much,” he told me. “Lacker runs a bar in a hole. Nasty place. He’d be the one to know if there’s a rogue coven.”

 

“Very unlikely that witches would work together,” Asil muttered.

 

Charles nodded at first and then said slowly, “George might be right. Witches are pissed at Da for working so closely with the humans and Fae.”

 

“Yeah, Bran’s good at pissing people off.” I bumped George’s shoulder. “You should get back to Roe.”   
  


George nodded once, and possibly for the first time, obeyed my order without question. The usual suspects gathered in Bran’s office. I paced back and forth after lighting a fire, something that Bran only did when he was very unsettled.

 

“Number tracks to New York,” Charles informed me, staring at his laptop.

 

“Okay, I have a contact in Queens: Evelyn. She’s a fair hand at magic.” Evelyn left George to go to NYC for art. She’d sworn off all things spooky.

 

“I’ll go pack,” Charles told me. “I’m coming with you.” They all nodded.

  
  


“Charles and Samuel,” I said after a moment of debating. “Asil you’re dominant enough to hold the Marrok if we don’t succeed.”

 

“I’m coming,” Matt tried.

 

“Nope, you and Anna are getting Ariana back to Adam’s territory. Then you’ll wait for instructions from me.”

 

Which meant that I was subjecting Ariana to a 14 car ride with two werewolves. But I couldn’t leave the Fae in Aspen Creek unclaimed, surrounded by crazy wolves. Even Asil wouldn’t be able to control himself with that level of fear without me. And Anna was needed to keep Matt calm. Oh yeah, this could only go wrong about forty different ways.

 

I still managed to fall asleep on Charles’ shoulder on the plane. I didn’t dream or even stir until the plane touched down. Samuel tapped my arm twice and I nearly punched him in the face. Three forged IDs and a tense car ride later we stood on the stoop of Evelyn’s door, because I wanted to check with her first before going off shady information from George. We all wore a seatbelt.

 

Evelyn looked every part the college art major. She had long brown hair, curly, decorated with scarves wrapped around a spindly body.

 

“Ash. What do you want?”

 

“Bran Cornick is in the city. Where is he?” I snarled. Alright so we had issues. There were a few reasons why I hadn’t contacted her before.

 

“No idea.”

 

I slammed her against the wall. “As a favor, Evelyn.”

 

“Fine, fine,” she growled back.

 

I let her up. “Names, now,” I barked.

 

“James; Red Lion Bar. Four miles that way.” She pointed left.

 

Charles and Samuel followed me out without saying a word. I tossed the keys to the bench seat truck to Samuel, and let myself be smushed between the Cornick brothers. Charles, Charles of all of people, wrapped an arm around me. I sunk into his side.

 

“Steady,” Samuel told me as he found the bar on GPS.

 

What if I was late? It’s not like I could even sense him anymore. Not that I had relied any of my suspicions to the pack.

 

“I must thank you,” I told them, listening to the soft jazz station that Samuel had insisted on. “For all that you’ve done for me.”

 

“Not dead yet,” Charles told me, “No use giving us last rites now.”

 

“Yeah, after the Nazis with magic, what are a few witches with magic?” I asked rhetorically. “I didn’t fall for him in that cell you know? Not like he tried to convince me that he’d fallen. Two days after I move in, I knew. I was gassing up the truck. He was walking back from the store. Little Jimmy Olde chucked a snowball, caught Bran straight in his ear.”

 

“What’d he do?” Samuel asked, laughing, not having been in Aspen during November. He’d just taken off for Europe with Ariana.

 

“Rolled right back, ass over head, picked up ammunition and staged a war between himself and the most of Mrs. Baker’s second grade class.”

 

“And you?” Sam knew me well. There’d been a mild incident of purple sharpie after the whole whore thing. Samuel wouldn’t take it well if I kicked his ass, sexists from the 1400s rarely do, but a little playful revenge worked out alright.

 

“I, wanting to participate in local affairs, shoved a snowball down the back of his shirt. Had to clamber on his back to do it too.” Samuel finally got off the highway. “He laughed, took his revenge, and kissed me in from of the kids.”

 

“And you fell in love because of a snowball?” Charles asked cynically.

 

“I’ve seen Bran in rages, terrified, in pain, but I’ve never seen him truly happy and not because he’s won some sort of game between us. But like the whole world is ours for the taking. He took my breath away and gave it back in the same instant.”

 

I remembered the affair after the fight as well: warm showers after stripping off the wet things, laughing like mad fools. He took me to bed. It wasn’t the first time we had sex. Bran wasn’t even the first man I had sex with after the Schatten. But it was the first time I was still there in the morning, feeding somebody waffles so they don’t criticize my boring pancakes. We got syrup all over the sheets. Bran made me feel like I could stay, which wasn’t something that George or anybody before had ever accomplished. And that’s not information I’d tell the brothers.

 

“Da’s happy with you,” Samuel admitted. “Happier than I’d seen him in a long time.”

 

“Best not screw it up with any of us ending up dead,” I responded as he pulled up in front of the Red Lion Bar.

 

Charles climbed out. I tried to follow. “I’ll handle it,” he murmured to me. I let him slam the door shut. I blinked at Samuel.

 

“Since when did Charles care about my health?”

 

“Since he’s your second and you handed him his ass without the Marrok’s power to back you up,” Sam explained, draping an arm around my shoulders.

 

“How’s Ariana?” I asked him. She made it back to Adam’s by now. Matt was on his way here, and Anna was on her back to Aspen. They’d called me when Charles was busy glaring at the car rental people.

 

Samuel’s hand whitened around the wheel, and I remembered why Charles put in the extra dough for more insurance. “Everything  _ looks _ healthy.”

 

“Good.” I gripped the hand that lay across the back of the seat.

 

“Hmmm. And you?”

 

I chuckled darkly. “Kid’s alright. Bran’s kid should be indestructible.”

 

Charles finally came back out after nearly twenty minutes. He had a split lip and an address.

 

“The coven is here.” I touched his face, tilting his head so I could study the bruise better in this light. “‘M fine.” He tried to swat the hand away. “They were humans, ten of them, but I’m fine. It was a good ol’ fashioned brawl that I walked in on. James was happy enough to give up the information. He gave me a phone number to call the witches in the morning and an address for their coven.”

 

It was one am in the morning, perhaps I should’ve mentioned that. Somebody knocked up Charles good. I didn’t doubt that all of the men there were unconscious that had started the brawl.

 

“So we’re safe for the night?” Charles nodded. “We should wait for morning before charging into a coven. Likely enough, they just wanted to know what would happen if they took the Marrok.”

 

“Really?” Samuel asked sarcastically.

 

“Doubt it. But we should be safe until morning, and the both of you are done for tonight.” We were all on edge. Werewolves and airports don’t mix well, add that to the New York traffic of clubbers trying to drive home after they had one too many . . .well, I’d rather fight for my life after a nice four hours of sleep.

 

“Fine,” Charles agreed irritably. “We’ll get the Marrok after we’ve had breakfast.” It was pretty snide for Charles. Well then.

 

I found a motel that looked like it was one block away from the drug lords, and possibly the dragons. But they took cash, and most of the dragons stay near the bridges or the glass towers. I booked a two bed room.

 

I woke screaming in terror.

 

Charles caught me as I fell off the bed and onto a carpet that would’ve turned a police light bright blue. I couldn’t breathe. I kept shaking. There aren’t words for when the world breaks around you.

 

Bran was dead.

 

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got addicted to Downton Abbey. It shows. I wrote this fic to see if Ash really could love Bran and could make without being in on all of the action. I honestly meant to tie this up in four chapters. Yeah, I actually planned most of this.
> 
>  
> 
> Also I'm evil. But you knew that.


	5. Ash Gets Roasted, and Bran is Less Dramatic

I wasn’t dead.

 

That’s the first thing I should clarify. Age rarely gives me the need to be as dramatic as my mate. The witches stopped my heart, and some of it passed through the bond to Ash, and hence her overwhelming sense of panic.

 

Me?

 

In over 900 years of life, my heart’s been stopped plenty of time.

 

Four hours later after the electroshock fun, the witches dragged me back out of my cell, and tied me to a silver chair with a gag in my mouth. Dick burn. Do. Not. Recommend.

 

Ash, Charles, and Samuel stood across the dirt floor from me. From what I could tell, this used to be a canning factory. There was about thirty feet between us. They were all dressed in jeans, serviceable flannels, and work boots. Ash looked cold, flanked by my sons. Oh yeah, this was going to go great.

 

“Why have you come here?” Victoria asked.

 

“To get my mate back,” Ash said irritably. Like no, she wasn’t here for a cupcake.

 

“Riiiight,” Veronica said. “Well, our traditions are pretty progressive on the subject, just a typical fight to the death against a witch, and you can take him.”

 

“What?” Ash asked coldly.  


“According to our customs,” Victoria said, addressing me, “you must choose a champion to battle for your freedom.” She removed the gag at last.

 

Ritual my aching ass. Not many are foolish to fight me, even with magic and several weeks of torture weighing in their favor.

 

Charles hastily made a jerking motion across his throat without a word, flicking his eyes to Ash. I raised my eyebrows back. While my son’s protective motion towards my mate was adorable, Ash could burn a house, or a small motel, down (experience). Charles started rocking his arms as if he were holding  a child. Ash kicked him for me. I hardly needed the distraction of my son going insane.

 

“Ash Cassidy,” I told the witch.

 

“Denial on health reasons,” Samuel cut in, almost at once.

 

“Nope,” Ash bit out, glaring at both of my children. “Perfectly healthy.”

 

“You sure?” Samuel muttered under her breath. She kicked him hard enough that he stumbled away.

 

“Yeah,” she whispered back. “Not like you or Charles spent a lot of time battling magic-users in your youth.”

 

“So we are all agreed. The redhead will battle me for the freedom of Bran?”

 

“Yep,” Ash and I said. Well, at least we were on the same page. Yeah, I learned the irony of that thought later on.

 

Everybody backed up a couple of paces, except Victoria and Ash. My chair got dragged back. Ash calmly toed off her boots and peeled off her socks. She gave her coat and flannel to Samuel. It kept Charles hands free, in case there was a need to avenge her.

 

She also dropped the glamour. Charles blinked. My mate was beautiful, but she usually chose to hide her scars from the Marrok. The scars scared most wolves, put them on edge because she’d survived so much and yeah. Probably good for Charles. My mate usually looks like a student to match what she tells me “photographer major”, redhead, blue eyes, small looking. Without it, she looks dangerous.

 

There was fifteen minutes of flashing lights, random temperature changes, and bright colors. By the time it was over, Ash had half of her body burned and Vicky was dead on the dirt floor.

 

So there’s that.

 

The witches, funky enough, stayed true to their word. They took one look at my badass, half burned mate, and decided that it was just easier to let me go, rather than deal with whatever came to get me after they murdered Ash.

 

They cut the ties on the chair. I stood up and flat out tumbled into Samuel’s chest before he caught me. Ash was managing to stand without support. Charles handed her things back so he could properly guard us.

 

“Just to be clear: I will defend mine,” Ash snarled at the witches. “If you make the mistake of taking another of my wolves, I will wage a full out war if I have to.”

 

“Of course, we don’t want a war,” another witch said. Right. Sure. That was why they kidnapped me. That Ash hadn’t started a war over me was some seriously character development. Remember the good old days when she nearly fought a war with me because she thought I would approve of abuse.

 

“Of course not,” Ash agreed, making sure to stand in front of me.

 

They got me out of the building and into what was apparently a very shitty van. Matt was driving it, looking like he was about to rob a bank. Not that I have any experience: more Ash’s alley. I slumped in the back, leaning further against Samuel. Charles rode shotgun, which was a good idea because probably needed Samuel’s doctoring skills more than I did.

 

“So what was the health reason?” I asked Ash as Sam tried to look at my back. I leaned away from him.

 

“What?”

 

“Why they both tried to get you to not fight? Which is funny because I know you and you love a good fight.”

 

“I’m pregnant.”

******************************************************

I couldn’t let it go, his voice. He thought I was punishing him for something, gods know what.

 

Charles breathed a small sigh of relief from his corner of the vehicle, proving how exhausted he was. He would never attract Bran’s ire otherwise.

 

“You knew!?” the Marrok roared.

 

“Not the time or place,” I told them. Matt was still in the truck, and I love that kid but steady hands he did not possess.

 

We’ve had fights, Bran and I. We’ve had the “no the toilet seat goes down, thank you”, the “do you know how to drive,” and my personal favorite “just because we have sex doesn’t mean you own me.” That last one had lasted a solid three weeks.

 

Never had the “why didn’t you tell me?!” argument. I was pretty good at dragging things out of Bran, and well I’m a little vocal sometimes.

 

Dead silence from Bran like I requested. Matt’s hands steadied. I kept breathing. Maybe that’s where this whole thing started. We found another crap motel. Matt paid in cash. Samuel nudged Bran into the bathroom. I couldn’t read anything off Bran. The rubber band between us had snapped, effectively blocking any emotion from him.

 

I spent time effectively double-checking the IDs for Charles and Bran. Samuel was a little bit better at hiding his scary so he doesn’t need a brandy-new ID, proclaiming him to be a veteran. NASA could run checks on us, and we’d be clean. Not that the Marrok is shady, but not letting the federal government find out who’s running the pack wolves is a good thing. The whole process of checking was made slightly harder by my burned eye, but I got through it. I always do. Right?

 

Matt crowded next to me on the single mattress. Charles sat down across from me. At the very least, Charles was able to help Matt keep control. Me? Holding on.

 

“How’s your side?” Charles asked.

 

“Hmmm?” It’s fine.” He raised an eyebrow. Maybe’s it’s a genetic trait? Cornicks and eyebrows. I really couldn’t feel anything. Numb from relief that Bran was alive. “It’ll hold until we get home.”

 

“Ash,” Bran snarled.

 

“Fine,” I barked back. I was just numb from exhaustion and relief, and Bran was in the next room: safe. The rest could come later for all my concern.

 

The kicker was, even with the bond shot to hell, my mate wasn’t mad at me about the pregnancy. He was mad that I’d risked myself, along with an unborn baby. And I couldn’t blame him, not when I was mad at myself as well, and I’d chose again without hesitation.

 

Charles easily ripped my shirt out of the way after I tried to struggle out of it. The bitch managed to burn half half my body, got my left arm really well. Charles briskly scrubbed the burnt flesh off. I didn’t do my usual jerk away. Bran gripped my hand, and sat next to me. It was nearly enough.

 

“Flight’s at 10am,” Charles told me. He’d booked it using the fakes. Charles was quick with the wrapping injured limbs bit. Matt kept whining under his breath. Samuel was absent, probably hiding out in the shower.

 

I fell asleep sandwitched between Matt and Charles. Bran went out to grab a bite to eat with Samuel. No nightmares. Which was good. I would need my rest for getting us through the airport.

Oh yeah, we got all the suspicious looks.

 

“Ma’am, are you okay?” the TSA agent asked, the one who checks everything before the security line.

 

Thankfully Ash Past thought this through.

 

“Yes, sir,” I said perkily, leaning a little less into Charles. Bran, Samuel, and Matt weren’t scary enough to warrant this kind of attention. They were on the other side of security already.

 

“My brother”-the agent raised an eyebrow- “adopted brother just got from Iraq, and I couldn’t wait to see him.” They’d think that I was some abuse victim and Charles had freaked out. Charles had let me tuck his hair under his cap, and he had enough of the military stance to pass this off. Otherwise he looked like a serial killer, the way he was worked up, and even humans can sense something.

 

Finally, finally they let us go. “Have you ever considered Broadway?” Samuel asked.

 

“Once or twice, but I don’t really have the face for it,” I joked back. “Thanks,” I murmured to Charles, letting him support the bulk of my weight, not that he was showing it. Anna was probably going to kill me for the liberties that I was taking with her mate. I fell back into a light doze, stuck with the window seat, while Charles got to be the vigilant one with the outside seat. Bran sat himself between Charles and I.

 

I woke twice. Once leaving the airport. And once getting out of the car at Aspen. I barely registered Asil’s face before Charles tucked me in. I made a mental note to check him out for brain damage before conking back out. I had my priorities straight: Charles and Asil could handle everything for a few hours, sleep, then everything else.

 

I woke to Charles peeling back my blankets. Bran’s house. I tried to sit up, but he blocked me. I raised my eyebrow (one had burned off). He raised both back. I settled back down.

 

“Where’s your Da at?”

 

“Clinic with Sam, Asil, and Anna.”

 

“Matt?” I asked.

 

“Downstairs, stress-baking. You were out for almost a day.”

 

“Great.” This time I fought him off enough to sit up. “So why are you so worried?” Left arm was in a brace, left part of my head was wrapped in bandages, and the blankets hid the rest of the damage. Also, I was naked under the covers, which might’ve been why Charles was so incisant that I stay horizontal (he knew I didn’t like people to see me bare). I didn’t have enough juice to light a candle, let alone hide all my scars and injuries.

 

I made the mistake of trying to move my arm. Charles tried to catch me when I lurched off the bed, and yacked up about three days of coffee and crap food.

 

“Steady,” Charles told me. He kept my hair out of the way. One plus right there. Wood floors because Bran knew his pack, and throws worked better than carpet.

 

“Sorry,” I said, wiping my mouth with the rag he handed me. I managed to get out of bed, against Charles’ best blocking skills. My leg wasn’t happy about supporting my weight, and seeing out of one eye hardly gave me more focus. Charles near about kicked the bathroom door down when I locked it.

 

“Ash, open up!”

 

“I’m brushing my teeth, over-controlling maniac!” I looked like shit. I looked like a cage fighter, and my day job was testing out blenders with various limbs. More good news: Bran kept spare clothes in his bathroom. The large t-shirt and larger jeans fit over the leg and arm braces.

 

Charles was still lurking when I exited the bathroom. I limped down to the kitchen, ignoring Charles’ grumpy silence (yes, he has the skills to do that). Matt was stress baking like it was the night before Christmas, and he alone could satisfy the world cookie requirement.

 

“Hey.” Matt didn’t turn around. I stole a cookie off the tray. Matt snarled at me. Charles, Charles who treated Matt like Matt was his alone, growled back. I nudged Matt out of the kitchen. “Go sleep it off.” Matt left, not able to disobey my orders.

 

Less good news: I would lose the ability to order the pack around. On the other hand: I’m not faced with having to deal with interpersonal problems like-

 

“Asil won’t sleep with me.” Sage stormed into the kitchen, making it past Charles. Charles spluttered. “Hey Charlie. Now fix him.”

 

Tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bran’s a drama queen. Let’s be real, the witches took one look at Charles and were like nope, not worth it. And then Ash killed one and they wanted Bran gooooone. Also it’s hard to write Bran.
> 
> I also apologize to my lovely viewers. I was never going to kill Bran off, though I did think of it for a little while. I also thought of making Ash the Marrok permanently but that was just a terrible idea when-yeah. There’s only so much I can throw at old wolves. And im really really sorry for the angst i caused, i got internet on august 14. And hey, im in the middle of moving, and getting back to school.


	6. Ash Chills

I put the pot on. I had the feeling that caffeine was a requirement for this conversation. “I take it the bombshell outfits didn’t work?” I looked over her jeans and bulky sweater. The corners of Charles’ lips twitched.

 

“He told me he wasn’t interested, like I couldn’t tell that he was lying.”

 

“Sage, maybe he’s not ready.”

 

“What?”

 

“Well, I have a ton of hangups with men, and I never stopped to realize that he might have his own shit to deal with.” 

 

Not really. Bran and I talked  _ a lot _ about safe sex before we had any, and that was mostly my deal. Bran would’ve bedded me the first night I could walk straight, if I let him. Judging by Charles’ face (slightest tic near his left eye), he had more than enough information about Bran’s creative, and I mean  _ creative _ , sex life. Werewolf hearing: not always the plus you think it is.

 

Also, Bran trusted his sons’ advice when it came to stubborn women, particularly in Charles’ case.

 

“I never. . .” I poured her a cup of tea.

 

“He might also be worried about you. Asil comes from a different time. He might,” I said slowly, “be trying to protect you from himself, or even from yourself. The only way to know is to ask.”

 

Again, Bran and I’s problems are from outside the bedroom. Or kitchen. Or living room.

 

Am I overselling awesome sex? No. Absolutely not.

 

By the time Sage  _ finally _ left, reassured of the wonders of communication, I was holding myself up through will alone. Charles’ leg brace was doing half the work. This is what happens when I burn through so much mojo. I was little but surprised I hadn’t burned my body or, at the very least, opened up past scars from years ago. The knee that Charles had done a fine job in wrenching was back, but I still had all limbs, none too shabby.

 

Charles clearly had enough melodrama left after Sage, because he scooped me up without any effort. I gave a small yip of shock, not that Charles cared, based on his blase handling of me and a bowl of oatmeal. He settled me back down in the master bedroom. I snarled, low in my throat.

 

“You were about to collapse,” he snapped back. I didn’t say anything (can’t lie to werewolves). I tried to roll off the bed, get back up. “Easy, easy.” He  _ let _ me sit up and gave me the bowl of oatmeal. “Why aren’t your injuries healing?”

 

I helpfully passed out to avoid dealing with the weirdness that is Charles worried.

* * *

Third Person:

Charles wanted to swear, to break something. Samuel finally answered his phone. “Yeah?”

 

“Ash. She won’t warm up.”

 

“To what? Da taking off on a soul-journey?” Charles would’ve gone with Samuel to watch over their Da while he was trying to deal with his rage at Ash and the world or whatever, but Ash needed Charles, needed somebody here to make sure she didn’t kill herself.

 

“No. Her body is at 60 degrees.”

 

“Give me an hour. Keep her bundled. Heating packs. Werewolves. Could be a latent case of hypothermia.” Charles could hear him huffing through the phone. “Is she still lucid?”

 

“She keeps talking like she’s with the Schatten.” Charles gazed at the tiny redhead. Anna was downstairs, boiling water. “She’s reassuring me that she’ll be fine.  _ They _ won’t torture her again so soon.”

 

Charles hung up the phone. Whatever weight Ash had gained during the three months of Bran had been lost in the hell month. Charles spent the hour trying to convince Ash that oatmeal wasn’t out to get her. Finally, Samuel showed up, out of breath, and carrying his doctor’s bag.

 

Samuel looked down at Ash, bundled up in blankets, with heat packs, pressed against her sweaty flesh. “Hey, doc, I thought I needed to make an appointment?” she said with some of her regular punch.

 

“I like making house calls.” Sam desperately wished that Bran would get his shit together and get back. He slipped a thermometer between her lips. “Charles, start the shower. I want a sweat room.” Sam’s cell phone went off and Ash tried to dive off the bed. “Hey, it’s alright, just Asil. Tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder, Sam quickly stripped the blankets. “What’s up?”

 

“How bad?” Asil practically snarled through the phone.

 

“Get him here in the next two hours. Hog tie him if you have to.”

 

“Already moving,” Asil said in a somewhat reassuring voice.

 

Charles had grabbed Matt from downstairs. Still dressed in jeans, Matt cradled Ash on the bathroom floor, covered in blankets. They couldn’t let her thrash and knock her head against the toilet or something, but Bran was a possessive motherfucker, and Matt wasn’t a threat.

 

Matt’s last alpha made the kid beat more dominant wolves to death, under orders. Bran had sworn that that was Charles’ job, crude as it was, which made Matt trail Charles’ around like a four-legged puppy. Anna found it cute, which largely allowed Charles to put up with it.

 

“Do you know what’s wrong with her?” Matt asked, watching as Charles helped Samuel poke at the woman’s wounds.

 

“No idea,” Samuel admitted. Ash thrashed, busting Charles’ nose, not even trying to hit Matt, and spraying water everywhere by shattering the shower door. “Shhh. Shhhh. Easy, honey, easy.”

 

“I’m going to make tea,” Charles said. It was weird watching Ash be anything less than presentable, to be quiet even.

 

Charles made the tea. Matt took one whiff of it and spluttered. “What is that?”

 

“Willow bark, comfrey, other herbs to help bring her round.”

 

“Hmm.” Samuel watched as Matt helpfully pinned Ash’s head back so that Charles would have an easier time of convincing Ash he wasn’t poisoning her. “Wondered about the herbs in your splints. Been a while.”

 

“Doctors, European ones, freak her out. I thought if she smelled less like a doctor’s office, it might help.”

 

Ash coughed hard, curling on Matt’s chest. “Tea shook something loose at least,” she said. She looked so much smaller than she should, like exhaustion had shrunk her.

 

Samuel slipped a thermometer between her teeth. “Hold that under her tongue,” he directed Matt when Ash couldn’t get her body to follow her commands. A whole whopping seventy degrees, a temperature that humans would be dead at. “Getting there,” Sam muttered. Ash helpfully passed back out.

 

“What’s Bran’s problem?” Matt asked, still tangled around Ash to comfort and warm her up. The Schatten used water. Ash never took a bath or showered longer than ten minutes. Even the sound of the shower was enough to make her more stressed.

 

“He’s mad that Ash was in danger, and he can’t do nothing about it.” Sam slumped on the closed toilet seat. “And he’s angry that Ash didn’t tell him about the pregnancy, and angrier still at himself that he doesn’t trust her. And worried about being the Marrok again.”

 

“You seem to know me pretty well,” Bran said softly, wearing nothing but jeans. Samuel looked his fill of his father, who was not bound to anybody except his mate, for the first time in over a thousand years.

 

“Well 900 years, right back at you.”

 

“Ugh, don’t remind me how old you are,” Ash whined, but she kept looking into Bran’s eyes.

 

“Why not?” Bran asked.

 

“You’re a gross, old, sweaty man,” she informed him.

 

“I’m not mad at you,” Bran said softly, sinking to his knees beside her. He stroked her head gently. She was still so cold. “I’m mad at myself, for letting you think it was acceptable to put yourself at risk with child, to not be worthy of you trusting me enough to tell me.”

 

“Babe,” Ash responded. “I trust you. I love you. I want to have your kid, and it poses no danger to me. You’re the one who cut off the bond, who left me out in the cold, because you don’t trust me to know my own mind.”

 

“I’ll do better,” Bran swore. “I love you.” Ash carefully, even in her delirium, passed the bonds of the packs to him through their bond. Bran took them, taking up the mantle of the Marrok again with all the love he had.

 

“Course you do. I’m the only one in the pack, besides you who can take Charles. I’m just your big scary, stick.”

 

“Sure you are, love.” He wrapped himself around his mate, soothing her. She fell back asleep.

 

“Are you going to leave again?” Matt asked, meeting his alpha head on. He still had a hand on Ash, gripping her hand. If Ash were awake, she’d probably mutter something about Gryffindor to him.

 

“No. The only reason I left was to keep from scaring my mate.”

 

“Ash don’t scare easily,” Samuel murmured, not buying that piece of bullshit.

 

“I know,” Bran admitted. He brushed her hair back. “I always forget that she knew exactly what she was doing in taking me.” He met Samuel’s eyes. “I caused this. She thought I was rejecting me when I took off, that’s what caused this.”

 

“Well, she was already drained from using magic to save your worthless hide,” Samuel said casually.” Bran snarled. The only thing that kept him from attacking his son was the weight of Ash. “Probably not all your fault,” Samuel said easily, completely ignoring his Da’s threat. “At least, not entirely.”

 

“Thanks,” Bran snarled.

 

“And your issues with being the Marrok?”

 

“Forgive me, son of mine, if I needed a few days to handle being tortured again by a witch, and being free of pack bonds. I did not know Ash was hurt. I could not feel her. I assumed she was angry with me because I was hurt, or I let her be hurt, and I needed a moment.” The amount of sarcasm in that explanation was more than it required, but Bran does what he wants.

 

“Okay,” Samuel finally let him off the hook, more or less. “Now all that’s left is for Ash to make it through the night.”

 

It’s not like transferring bonds or dealing with Bran Cornick are easy things.

 

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a human can survive until seventy degrees, and then they die. But you know Ash, over-achiever. I know that was a lousy cliffhanger, but y’all needed a break, and I like not dying. I know Anna has no lines in this, and I just forgot to write any. Sorry.


	7. Chapter 7

I don’t remember much of being sick. I woke to Matt curled up next to me, among sleeping wolves. Bran was buried in my side, dozing. I shifted a fraction of an inch and he jolted up, watching me, scrutinizing my every move, ready for any sign of encroaching illness.

 

“Easy, babe,” he reassures me.

 

“The others?”

 

“They’re fine. All asleep. Charles slipped them some of your tea.”

 

I pressed my head into his neck and didn’t move. But I didn’t shy away from him. I felt him relax slightly more at that. He still worries. I doubt he’ll stop any time soon. “Are we okay?”

 

“Yeah, I’m sorry for being angry and scaring you, and for cutting you off from the bond.”

 

“Okay. I’m sorry for fighting while pregnant.” And I was, but I’d do it again, if I had to.

 

“Hmm. Two Dot?” he asks, like he doesn’t already know. I nod into him.

 

“Okay.” He kisses the top of my head. “What baby names are you thinking of?” And I know we’re okay.

 

“What about Branson?” I ask. He flicks me on the top of the head. I grin into his shoulder. “What about Eira?”

 

“Snow?” he asks. “You want to know our kid something that Hipster?” His brain caught up with his mouth. “We’re having a girl?!”

 

“Yeah,” I murmur. He was all tense, already worrying. Lord help us if I had to keep being the calm, rational one in this thing. “I like it. Snow. Snow Mountain if you really think about it. Good name for a kid from the Marrok Pack of Montana.”

 

“And she can always change it if she doesn’t wear beanies in the summer,” he mutters. And his wolves don’t get his funny side often.

 

“Which will be never because that’s Montana weather,” I respond. But he doesn’t care all that much. He doesn’t. Charles and Samuel have gone by half a dozen names by now. I doubt they even remember all of them. Bran sure does, but names matter less than what you do, he says.

 

I never asked if Bran kept his name. It doesn’t matter. I’ve had several. Names matter far less than deeds, he’s right about that. And honestly, Samuel had found a way to make morphin work for wolves. Like really really work.

 

“I’m not going to run,” he tells me. “Not again.”

 

I snort. “I’ve never been scared of you running, you always get your head out of your ass eventually.”

 

“Never been truer words said,” Samuel agrees, he slips a hand on my head. “Fever’s down.”

 

“There was a fever?” I ask, sluggishly, trying to jerk his hand off my face.

 

“Course there was.” He flipped the blankets up to inspect my leg. Bran growled softly, warning his son away from his injured mate. I flick his nose in retribution. He gives me an unremorseful look. “Steady,” Samuel tells us. “The wound’s clear. I want you on bedrest, actual bedrest, not your version of it.” He broke out a flashlight and continued his exam.

 

“Well?” I ask when he’d finished.

 

“Better. Try not to die again from hypothermia after the fact, eh?” I nod. “The baby’s fine as well. All’s quiet in the house. Charles has been bossing everybody around adeptly.” I grin.

 

“Have not,” Charles grumbles at us. Bran snorts into my shoulder. I had a feeling I’d never get the full story, but Charles was carefully avoiding Bran’s’ eyes. They probably had some dumb spat.

 

“How’s Anna?” I ask him.

 

“She’s fine. She’s on me about adopting more,” he continues after a moment, pulled out of him from me being an Omega, and well, Bran’s mate. Bran keeps his eyes closed, because he thinks, out of insanity, that I’m better at such matters.

 

“You’ll be fine,” I tell him. I sit up, elebowing Bran when he’d have tried to keep me down. “Stop that,” I order him. Sam, being a very good sport, helps me to and from the bathroom.

 

“The baby’s fine?” I ask him, softly so the others can’t hear. He nods. “You’re sure?” He nods again. “And my leg?”   
  


“You might have some issues, you should be healed in a couple of weeks.” I sigh in relief.

 

“And sex?” I ask him. He turns bright red. But well, I’m a predator. And Bran is  _ mine _ , and somewhere he forgot that. Dumb wolf, thinking he ran could run out on me. There was a goddamn reason Bran had been with other wolves when he’d taken off running.

 

“Be careful?” I snort at him and glance at my belly. “You know what I mean.”

 

“And Ari?” I ask him, letting it go.

 

That gets a wide smile from him. “She’s great. She’s painting a room light blue.”

 

“Yeah?” I ask him, letting him help me back to the bed.

 

“Hm. We don’t know the sex yet, want it to be a surprise.”

 

I grin back. “I think it’s funny picturing my kid’s dating life.” Sam stares. “What? I’m allowed to find humor in my life.”

 

“Oh god,” he whimpers. “Ari’s going to torture any poor kid who even thinks about it. I’m gonna have to play the sane one.” I snort and pat his shoulder.

 

“I feel you.”

 

“No. No, you’re the insane one,” Bran tells me. “I’m the nice, happy, friendly dad who’ll- hey, stop laughing, they don’t know better.”

 

“Shut up, maybe they will,” I tell him, still laughing at the future, poor schmuck who won’t realize that Bran’s the threat.

 

And yeah, alright, I know it will be okay, it will work out.

 

Course that’s the night Matt picks a fight over nothing. I stare at the wolf, trapped in a cage, wounded beyond belief. Jesus. Bran props me up. I wanted to be there. Matt’s shaking. Bran looks at him, and he falls to the ground, snarling. Right.

 

“Bran, stop.” And he does. “Matt, stand up.” He does. Right. Okay. I nudge Bran so he leaves. Charles is still growling in the corner, clutching one of the new wolves. Right. “What happened?” I ask Charles.

 

“Matt got attacked by Luke.” And the translation of that was Matt provoked Luke, because otherwise Luke would be dead, or not walking around right now. Charles would’ve seen to that. 

 

“So, we have options then. Bran’s going to call Adam to see if he can take Matt.”

 

Adam was more equipped to deal with trouble wolves. He’d done good with Ben after all, and Matt needed somebody a little bit more straightforward than my mate. Somebody had already done a number on the wolf with mind games, and Bran wasn’t the one to help that. We’d talked about it earlier, when Bran gave me a brief summary of what I’ve missed.

 

“What?” Matt asks, clearly caught by surprise.

 

“Well,” I say, gently, “You incited Luke. I don’t know how or why, but one day you’re going to pick the wrong fight with the wrong wolf and die. I’d rather prevent that.” Matt shakes. Charles casually wraps a hand around the wolf’s shoulder. Huh. Character growth.

 

“I can’t live with it, Ash.”

 

“Well, you’re going to for the moment, just for a bit, just for a little longer.” He nods, shakily. I nod slightly at Charles. He nods back. Matt isn’t moving an inch without his noticing now.

 

Yeah, okay, so maybe I should’ve interrogated Matt more on his past earlier in this. And I’m firmly betting that this whole thing is somehow Bran’s fault. And I’ll get him back for it. Somehow. Not that I don’t love his wolves.

 

“Right, Luke, here’s the thing, you can’t go around attacking submissive wolves. You keep that up, and I’ll help Charles burn your body into ashes, and whistle while I do that.”

 

“He attacked me,” Luke growled.

 

“Yep, I get that. But on the other hand, I’ll gut you like a fish. You have soldiering experience, you know how to put a person down without hurting them. You threw Matt into a glass wall, somebody who was clearly provoking you for non-dominance related issues. So, do it again, and you’ll be in more pain.”

 

“You know,” Charles says considering. “I know Asil has been wanting somebody to help around his house.” I nod. Asil likes Matt, and is a fair amount more demonstrative with his anger than Charles.

 

“Sounds good. You’re to help Asil with whatever household projects he wants for the next three weeks.” He bows his head, not able to disobey me. I dismiss Luke. He doesn’t dare argue. I stumble and Charles catches me before I fall.

 

“You need to take it easier,” he tells me. I grimace at him. “You’re worrying Da.”

 

“Doubtful,” I tell him, but I know better. I wrap an arm about his shoulders, and let him take most of my weight. “Hush,” I tell him, grumpy. Matt gets the other side. I huff at him. They steer me firmly back up the stairs. The bump is starting to develop. Pretty soon, Bran won’t let me leave the house (ha). 

 

“What happened?” Bran asks, scooping me up effectively, far too easily ignoring my swearing at him.

 

“Over exertion,” Matt tells him, and hastily ducks his head back down.

 

“I’m not happy with you,” Bran informs him. “You’re to stay with Charles for your remainder in Aspen Creek. I cleared it with Hauptman, you’re to go when the snow lets up enough for you to drive there.”

 

“You’re trusting me to drive there?” Matt stupidly asks.

 

“No. Samuel’s driving with you back. Do I look like a wet behind the ears pup to you?” Bran snarls back.

 

“Leave the kid alone,” I tell him. “He’s grumpy because my ankles are swollen and the hormones go through the bond.”

 

“Is that actually true?” Samuel asks me, helping Bran deposit me back on the bed.

 

“Meh. It comes and goes.”

 

“It does not!” We all look at him, like we can’t smell lies, especially when he doesn’t even try. Bran sighs. “I want pickles and ice cream,” he complains to me.

 

“Sorry,” I say unremorsefully.

 

“You’re due in seven months,” Sam warns me. “Be careful. And listen to Charles.”

 

“Don’t worry. I know a midwife nearby.”

 

“What?” Bran nearly shouts.

 

“Yeah, I’m not having your sons pull a baby from my vaginia. It’s not a gonna happen.”

 

“Hey, I’m a professional,” Sam protests.

 

“Yeah and even you found it awkward last time. Besides, you’re going to be busy staying with Ariana. And Charles will be busy keeping me from killing my mate.”

 

“It might be quick,” Bran reasons. I stare at him. Cornicks are never reasonable or not stubborn. It’s a good thing I love to argue.

 

Eventually the others go home. Eventually my leg heals. Okay, they leave because my leg healed.

 

“You sure this is safe?” he asks me when I straddle him. I press down. He groans. “Fair point.” He rests his hands on my hips. “Why are you still here?”

 

“You’re okay in bed.”

 

“Oh really?” He presses up and flips us over. He spends the next few hours teaching me what centuries of experience can mean.

 

“Why though?” he asks when we’re both getting our breathing back under control.

 

“I’m in love you, which sounds lame, but I love you, and you don’t get to quit me.” I flip us so I’m back on top.

 

“I can be agreeable to that,” he says meekly. For whatever reason, he trusted me enough that his submission wasn’t fake, this wolf who bows to no one, who gives no ground to no other creature, willing gave me his throat.

 

I love him because he’s Bran, because he’d never try to hurt me or leave me. I know him. He wants his people safe. He’s prepared to be infinitely ruthless to accomplish his single goal. And I know that life. So yeah, he doesn’t get to quit me.

* * *

*Six Months Later*

I stare at Ash. No fucking way. She glares back. “Go call the bleeding woman before I beat you to death with my bare hands, dearie.”

 

I hasten (I don’t run) for the phone. “Ash’s in labor,” I say to the other person, and hang it up.

 

“I’m never having sex with you again.”

 

“Okay,” I reassure her. It’d be fine with me, really. Lots of cold fucking showers over the past few months had proven that.

 

She swears heartily at me. “I will kill whoever came up with this whole process.”

 

“Easy,” I murmur, steering her towards the bed. “It’ll be okay.”

 

“If I chop your dick off, then we’ll see.”

 

“Shhh. It’s alright. Asil’s getting Charles.”

 

“Good.”

 

“It’s going to be okay. We got this.”

 

“Hell yeah we do. Witches, Nazi, werewolves, and general crazy. Kids have nothing on us.” Oh how very wrong we were.

* * *

The last few months had been largely quiet. My pack knew better than to start any kind of madness this close to the birth of my child. Ash would’ve killed them before I would’ve had the chance and pleasure.

 

Three days later, my daughter is brought into the world, one day after Sam’s kid. Sam’s son was healthy. Ariana was already up and moving around.

 

I kiss Ash’s head. She sags into me. “We’re never doing that again,” she orders me. She was fine, alive. She could command me to fly around the earth, and I could probably do it at the moment.

 

“Okay,” I agree meekly, tracking Hela, the midwife carefully. She quickly hands over my daughter before I have to move to rip her throat out. Hela nods once to me, and backs out of the room. Charles follows, along with Asil and Anna. I relax more fully into Ash.

 

“Eira Cornick,” she murmurs, brushing the baby’s head. “You think you’re going to be like your ma or da.”

 

“Only time will tell.” The pack was healthy and happy. Our negotiations with others have never been better. Peace had fallen over us.

 

Things weren’t the way they’d been when I’d met her. Ash had changed me for the better, and I for her. Time will bring new challenges, but looking at my newborn and my mate, I knew that we would thrive.

 

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. It almost happened. I typed “leg.” and I still have shortcuts make that into “legislation”. Also, I probably will never get Ash and Bran. I’m sorry for the late update. School and then my laptop died. Like wow did it really die. Also, giving birth is disgusting. Like wow. The thing about Matt is because I started a story involving him and Adam’s pack, not sure if I’ll continue it. Maybe I might finish it all before posting it. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your constant support and aggravation with me. It drove the story forward. I want to thank everybody for their comments and belief that I might, one day, actually finish this. I started this story in Middle School. I’m now well into my second year of college. I want to thank Morbid Casanova, who listened to this story in the very beginning, and still listens now. I could not have done it without your support.


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